Theodore Roosevelt High School - Saga Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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STUDYING THE STUDY HALL The Fourth of Iuly comes once a year. Everyone awaits its arrival with great enthusiasm and noise-making devices. To live through one day out of three hundred and sixty-five days of nerve-shattering noise, is a blessing. To live through two hun- dred days is absolute murder. I clearly remember my first visit to Theodore Roosevelt's study hall. Being under the impression that silence is essential in study, I entered noiselessly on tip-toes. By the whispering and noises that met my ears, I judged that this place was different from what it was said to be. I was in the act of occupying a seat, when suddenly the blast of a police whistle nearly burst my eardrums. I whirled around, expecting to see an officer of the law performing his duty, but lo and behold, the sight I per- ceived was one I shall never forget. Standing in the center of the aisle, her arms waving in such a manner that would make a band leader envious, she stood tall and defiant, shouting for silence. After a few attempts, she finally succeeded, and re- turned to her chair. The performance over, I opened a book intent on studying. I had hardly begun when a wave of music filled the hall. An instructor was giving some pupils lessons on how to play the organ. No sooner had the organ lessons ended, than a few amateur actors began to rehearse a play on the stage, I carrie to the conclusion that the only person who could succeed in studying in this hall must be absolutely deaf. The actors were in quite bacchantic mood when the period ended. Before taking my departure, I questioned a student if these incidents happened daily. He replied that this was the cus- tomary routine of the study hall, and aside from police whistles, shouting, organ playing, rehearsals, and various other elements, the auditorium was considered a very appropriate place in which to spend periods for close study. IosEPHNoTo HOPE AND FAITH Hope is young, True and steady Everlasting and beautiful Constant and comforting. Wondrous and mysterious Hope and faith, Alive and fiery Viffl-165 two, Vivid and fearless. Sweet and sometimes sad Faith is soft, Proud and dear, Unchangeable and endless That stays with lass and lad. Humble and unhesitating SYLVIA MOSKGWITZ Z0

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Wm tm .l A A: the ship as if it were a cork. The ocean continually washed the deck. Huge cracks appeared in the hulk. At nine the captain commanded all to the 'life-boats. The ship had to be abandoned. The sea had proved itself too power- ful an adversary. Ten found the lifeboats, perilously riding the waves. The lowering had been accomplished without much difficulty. Five of the crew were in each boat. The wireless operator had sig- nalled for help and already three steamers were rapidly approaching. At two A.M. the first steamer hove into sight. lt was a mat- ter of a few minutes before all the people were picked up. The captain sent them to the dining room in order to check the list. At the first count it was discovered that all were present or accounted for but one. A second re-check revealed that a cer- tain Iohn, last name illegible, was missing. HERMAN RosEN Y A W N I N G A yawn is something likely to occur to anybody, and like a concussion of the brain or a broken garter strap, it is usual for it to happen at the most inopportune moments. The proper control of a yawn is therefore a matter deserving some attention. In the privacy of the home, the worst hazard of yawning is the possible dislocation of the jaw, but at a social function it may prove more disastrous. Every effort, therefore, should be made to reduce the possibilities of a yawn to the minimum. If it is not more than a young and little yawn, it may sometimes be checked by the gritting of the teeth, and while holding the breath, counting slowly up to ten. If it turns out to be a big yawn, this process may prove dis- astrous. The yawn thwarted in its natural behavior will trickle out through the eyes, nose and roots of the hair and the yawner will break out into a cold perspiration which will betray him at once to every experienced eye. Maybe it is best to let the yawn take its natural course and cover it up as best may be. This may be done by placing one or more hands before the yawn as gracefully as possible. If both hands are occupied, as in dealing cards, the situation becomes more difficult. Possibly the best thing to do is to turn the yawn into a loud and hearty laugh. Amid the questioning glances that follow this hilarious out- burst, it is considered good taste to think up an adequate reason for this unexpected merriment. This may prove difficult but not quite so difficult as to explain a plain, unvarnished yawn to a suspicious group of friends or relatives. RALPH SCOPPA 1 9

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VR L- IT HAPPENED IN ENGLAND Lord Cedric Forsythe was hunting. At least, he was sup- posed to be hunting, but at that moment he was mingling his snores with the song of the birds and the rustling of the wind in the trees. lt was late afternoon, not that Lord Cedric was aware of the time, for that noble gentleman had been peace- fully wrapped in oblivion since early afternoon. He was the type of gentleman who forgot things until the last minute, and then rushed to get them done on time. He had never yet missed anything of importance to him. He slept the sleep of the inno- cent and the just, for innocent and just he was. He slowly opened his eyes and became aware of the ex- quisite beauty of the setting sun. He watched in rapture the delicate coloring of the skies as the sun bid the earth good- night until another day. When it was gone, he sighed for the lost glory of the sunset. With something akin to a groan, he sat up. With another sigh, he glanced at his watch. He sat there, petrified. His watch couldn't possibly be right. He brought it to his ear. Yes, it was right. Like a frightened rabbit, he jumped up and ran. lt was a mile from his cabin and he had only five minutes left. He prayed as he ran, Lord, please don't-please don't let it be finished. The perspiration stood out on his brow, his breath was coming in pants, it was torture to take a breath. And still he ran. On and on, over hill and dale, through a small brook that rippled angrily as he plunged through it. Never, never had he missed this. Never, never had he been too late. Ah, his luck couldn't fail him, he'd reach that cabin in time. His head was tossed back in an effort to breathe in a few lungfuls of fresh air. His heavy shirt was soaked in perspira- tion. Only one more bend to turn and he would be home. He staggered to the cabin, and flung open the door. His dazed eyes took in his wife and brother comfortably reading, the dishes piled in the sink. He slowly sank to the floor in a dead faint. He was too late-his wife and brother had finished tea. KATHERINE KOTT I MY HEART My heart is like a flower Nestled in the grass Waiting for you to take it Any time you pass. FELICE RIEICI 21